A Selection Of Ficlets
by gwingwin
Summary: A selection of one-shots, for your enjoyment. Howince fluff and friendship. Rated for a bit of language, and maybe a bit of sex later on, depending on my mood. You know you love it, you cheeky vixens, now get in my fic-barrow x
1. A Reminder

** A random one-shot that popped into my head. Also, my first Boosh fanfic, so sorry for the general shortness and lack of plot. It could be light slash, or strong friendship, whichever you prefer. Have fun.**

**Do I own The Mighty Boosh?**

**...**

**No I don't.**

A reminder.

He hated him. He really hated him. The superficial bitch. He was just so... so vain. So devoid of real feeling. Unable to take life seriously. And the most annoying thing of all: that wasn't even_ slightly_ why Howard was so angry with the titbox.

When Vince had entered the shop earlier today, ridiculously late, Howard had viewed him with a tired distaste. He was lazy and unhelpful and, well a _burden_. He couldn't pinpoint when exactly Vince had gone from being his annoying-yet-loveable-best-mate to the annoying-guy-who-he-was-always-stuck-with, but it was becoming painfully more apparent as the days went by.

Yet, when Vince revealed the depths of his despair and said that timelessly terrifying line, "_I've been to the doctor. He's confirmed the worst", _Howard was gripped by a sudden fear so fierce it took his breath away. In that brief few seconds before Vince revealed he was absolutely fine except for his latest fashion crisis or whatever it was, Howard felt like he was in free-fall, the ground had been pushed out from under his feet and he experienced an unpleasant swooping sensation in his stomach.

He walked towards Vince and placed - what he hoped – was a comforting hand on his shoulder, hoping Vince appreciated the significance of the gesture, after all Howard had serious contact issues. He was in a full on panic. Life without Vince? Unimaginable. Uninteresting. Unbearable.

They had been drifting apart of late, there was no denying it. But in that moment, when Howard thought there might be something wrong with Vince, that he might _loose_ Vince, the reality of how much Vince meant to him came crashing down. Vince was his best friend, always there for him... more or less. Yes they fought, but only about stupid things. Vince still made him smile more than anyone else in the world, still was the one Howard stuck with, through it all.

It was stupid to define their relationship by their fights, when the good times were so much more important. Vince was the most important person in his life, end of.

He could forgive Vince for being vain and superficial and silly. Forgiving Vince for reminding him of how important he was, would be harder. But he'd do it. Because it was Vince.

** I know it's not much to review, but if you could try I would be forever greatful.**


	2. Lucky 67

**Hi Boosh babies x Okay so, as you know, _A Reminder_ was originally just going to be just a one-shot all on its lonesome, but I had so many other one-shot ideas bouncing about my brain, that I decided to have a one-shot bonanza. Aren't you lucky XD**

**Disclaimer: As I'm sure is the case for many of us here, if anything, they own me.**

**Dedication: Mrs Old Gregg, and kbchick. You reviewed! Thankyou x**

**Summery: Vince keep trying to tell Howard how he feels, and keeps failing. Will 67 be the lucky attempt?**

Lucky 67

This would be attempt 67. The 67th time. And I was going to get it right, I was going to _say_ it right, I was going to break free of this monotonous cycle of declaration and panicked back-tracking.

But that's what I said before the 66th time.

And the 65th.

The first time, I was terrified. Which was weird 'cus I don't normally get scared. Howard says that's because I'm too stupid to understand the seriousness of the situations that we invariably get ourselves into, on a regular basis. I don't think that's strictly true. I realise there's a reasonable chance that I might not make it out of *insert unlikely situation here* but, nothing bad _ever _happens to me, so I always struggle with the concept of things starting to go wrong. I know that sounds stupid, but... if _you _had led a life as charmed as mine, you would know what I mean.

That first attempt, when I had wandered into the kitchen, at the crack of noon, and Howard had looked up from his Global Explorer all soft and brown and warm (Howard, not the magazine – Global Explorer is a sepia nightmare), I had just _melted_ like the biggest ponce in the history of the world, not that that really bothered me, as portrayed quite accurately by the Lycra creation I was sporting, wasn't _disastrous _but it wasn't exactly successful.

"Alright, Vince?" he had said, and all I could think was _yes, yes, of course I'm alright, I've got you, _but managed to exert enough self control not to just come right out and say it (haha, come right out, how appropriate) because I didn't think Howard would appreciate a sentiment quite so sickly sweet and vague. I had to say something though, something that conveyed everything I wanted to say in a Howard-friendly way, and there was only one of putting it that I could see, unless I tried crafting some fashion related metaphor, but no, that was an awful idea, under no circumstances should he say anything except those three simple words...

"Howard, I... if I'm a tunic made of owl feathers, you're my sparkly silver platforms. I mean, you know? If I'm an electro inspired jump suit, the you're my revolving, luminous, disco-ball neck-lace. Yeah?"

According to Howard's expression, no.

"Erm, alright then. I've got to go open up shop... The kettle's just boiled" Howard had finished lamely, before swiftly exiting the room.

I had then collapsed into a chair and whacked my head down onto the table. It didn't help. Honestly, if I had said that to any of the Camden Elite, they would have got it instantly. Leroy for example, would have known what I meant like _that. _Then I had quickly shut that train of thought off, because the thought of professing love to Leroy was making me feel a bit ill.

My attempts could only improve from then on, right? Apparently, no. All I had done during attempt one, was thoroughly confuse Howard. Attempt two, was even more of a balls up.

I had decided to go for The Annoying Approach. Thinking back, the fact that I had named it 'The Annoying Approach' (with capital letters and everything) in my own mind, should have been enough to put me off. But that sort of connection would involve common sense, and that wasn't ever going to happen was it?

Attempt two had gone like this:

"Howard? Howard? Howard. Howaaaaard. Howard, Howard, Howard, How-"

"What! What is it Vince? What is _so_ important?" Howard had snapped, looking at Vince angrily.

"I love you."

There was a heartbeat of silence in which Howard looked at me confused, and I'm sure with a hundred other emotions too, but the trouble is a heartbeat may seem like an eternity when you've just told someone you love them, but it's really a very short time, too short to properly read the expression on someones face but _plenty _oftime to get into a complete panic.

So before Howard could answer me, or draw and conclusion at all, I waded in with what felt like saving myself at the time, but, with the benefit of hind legs, was more a case of just twatting it up.

"...but you look ridiculous today."

There. _I love you but you look ridiculous today. _An insult to ruin the sentiment, brilliant plan right? Of course it wasn't. If I can't come up with a _adequate _plan in several hours, there's no chance of me doing something brilliant with a split-second to think about it.

So then there had been a big fight about what a bitch I was being (true) and how Howard was just boring and old and jealous (so _not _true) which had resulted in me going out and getting completely pissed with Leroy, and stumbling in at 4am and no doubt saying a load more offensive things to Howard, who had waited up for me, even though I in know way deserved him to. The thought made my stomach go all funny from a mixture of guilt and happiness.

My third attempt was only a few hours later. I was hung over like you wouldn't believe and was considering amputating my own head, when Howard walked into my room, carefully making as little noise as possible, and handed me a cup of tea without a word.

"Howard, I love you." I said sincerely, but in what I supposed must have been in a thanks-for-the-tea way, and not a will-you-be-my-boyfriend way. I sat up so I could take the tea. I groaned as the room shifted and told my self fiercely _to under no circumstances throw up. _That was something you certainly don't want the guy you're in love with to see.

Howard just gave me a slight smile before leaving me alone with the pounding in my head.

And that was how it had gone, over and over, for the last few months. A cycle of useless metaphors, declarations followed by insults, drunken mumblings and hung over gratefulness. It wasn't getting me anywhere, except maybe there was a small pile of resentment building up somewhere in the back of my mind against Howard, for being so blind as not to see how head over heels I was. It was that more than anything that had spurred me on to finally do it right, I couldn't end up resenting Howard, that would be too awful.

We were in the shop, and it was closing time. This was it. This was absolutely it, the final attempt. I found my self idly wishing that I had a better number to succeed on, 67 was a bit of an awkward number, better 50 or a hundred. Taking my conviction that I was going to get it right this time as a positive thing I took a deep breath and followed Howard across the shop silently, to where he turned the sign to closed. I stood directly behind him, uncomfortably (or extremely comfortably, depending on how you look at it) close.

Howard turned around to find me standing so close to him that I could feel his breath on my face, and the warmth emanating from his body. He didn't start. I didn't say anything. He didn't say anything. I was caught up in how close I was to him, how easy it would be to close the gap and kiss him. Then I told myself to stop bring such a twat and actually _do _it because kissing him wasn't something that could sidetrack me, it was the main plan. I had proved 66 times that I was useless with words, and this seemed my only option. Not that I was complaining, I thought it was pretty romantic and fitting.

Then all of my thoughts turned off, because Howard was kissing me. _Howard _was kissing _me. _How the hell did that happen? The tit was ruining my defining moment, my brave and meaningful declaration. How dare he? I was going to have to have strong words with him. I thought about it, and decided to 'have strong words with him' tomorrow morning, I was a little busy right now. Oh, and if you were concerned that I had just been standing like a lemon while Howard did all the work, kissing-wise, then I can assure you I was being more than responsive and _am _capable of thinking and snogging at the same time.

Shutting off my thoughts (which according to Howard is quite an unusual skill, and people normally can't just make their thoughts go blank like flicking a switch, but I find it really easy to not think and just feel. It sounds pretty deep when I say it like that, but really it's just a case of me not really having many proper, important thoughts... except about Howard, I could sit and think about him for years,) I focused entirely on giving Howard by very best kissing moves, moves which have resulted in half the female population of Camden (and about a third of the blokes) being brought back to the flat. His appreciative moan told me I must be doing something right and sent waves of pleasure through me, like a hair dryer having a power surge... or something along those lines.

We broke apart, gasping for air with our foreheads touching and our eyes locked.

"You _jack of clubs_, I've been trying to successfully come on to you for ages, and just as I was about to get it right you had to wade on in and beat me to it!" I said as venomously as I could manage when all I could think was _Oooh I love you... _Which as it turned out wasn't very venomously at all.

"Well exactly. What's this, the 67th time? I got tired of waiting around for you to make a move, when all I could think about doing was pouncing on you." grinned Howard, still trying to get his breath back.

"You tit!" I exploded. "You knew all along that I was trying to tell you how I felt and you just let me fail and make an arse out of myself 66- Hang on a minute, _pounce _on me?" I said with a laugh. Howard dragged his eyes away from mine, to look at the floor embarrassedly (I had been wondering when some embarrassment was going to come in on Howards part, he was being far to calm and smooth about this whole thing.) I laughed and put my arms around his neck. He looked back up at me and slid his hands around my waist smiling a little self consciously.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

I grinned my biggest brightest mega-watt grin and kissed him again gently. Then I grabbed his hand and dragged him up the stairs yelling "Come on then Howard, pounce on me!" over my shoulder.

I awoke this morning, feeling more content then I knew was possible, and that's saying something for a Sunshine Kid (I'm really getting in to this capitalisation lark, it makes things sound much more official. The correct use of capital letters _is _very important, for instance it's the difference between helping your Uncle Jack of a horse and helping your uncle jack off a horse...Hey, Vince Noir, I'm here all week.) While trying not to laugh at my own internal joke, two questions and two facts had wandered lazily into my brain as I lay half asleep.

How much real strawberry went into a strawberry bootlace? And how did Howard get to be so mind blowing in bed with *ahem* so little experience? I tried to answer my own questions and came up with: loads, because how else would they get them so red, and he must just have natural talent. I decided that these were probably both right and therefore I had four facts which was much more enjoyable. That was four things Vince Noir kjnew for certain. Actually that would make quite a powerful ending...

As I lay in the half light of the morning, I realised there were four things I knew for certain. One, strawberry bootlaces _must _contain lots of real strawberries because of how red they are. Two, Howard was naturally gifted at sex. Three I wanted to wake up with Howard's arms draped lazily over me every morning, and four, that 67, well 67 was my new lucky number.

**A quick review wouldn't hurt :D The next will be about...erm... you'll have to wait and see (I have as little idea as you do :P) GwinGwin x**


	3. I missed you

**Alright m'dears? How are we all? Good.**

**Disclaimer: If you don't know that the Boosh is owned by Noel and Ju, then you are not worthy to read my story. Sling yer 'ook.**

**Dedication: You.**

**Summary: Howard isn't best please with his welcome home. At first.**

**Warnings: Shamelessly fluffy, no plot to speak of and a _terrible _title. You have been warned.**

I missed you.

It had been half an hour since Howard Moon, man of action, had re-entered his old life. Half an hour since he had returned to the second hand shop in Dalston he called his home with a head full of fanciful notions. Notions of a dramatic reunion where everyone was overjoyed to have him back, to be told how much he was missed, to be forced to promise to never leave again... Half an hour later he was wondering why he had bothered coming back at all.

After the incident with the advert, and that Adam berk, Howard had hung around downstairs for fifteen minutes, holding out in vain for something that would indicate he had been missed. Anything. But no such indication came so Howard sighed and told Vince, Naboo and Bollo that he was going for a lie down, after a tiring journey. They barely acknowledged him. It was like he had never left.

Or was it like he had never come back?

Howard climbed the stairs to the flat dejectedly and grumbled his way into the kitchen. He hadn't had high hopes for Bollo, who had never liked him, but maybe something, some small gesture, from Naboo... Surely that wasn't to much to ask? And Vince. He was his 'best friend' for as long as he could remember, and what? The only smile his return seemed to get from Vince was a mocking one when that God forsaken advert had come on. That was the impact he had made on the people he had shared his life with for the past five years, absolutely nothing. Howard needed a cup of tea.

He bustled around the kitchen, everything being exactly where it had been two weeks ago, the only visible difference being slightly more dirty plates and cups in the sink, and put the kettle on. He sighed. Over the bubbling and whistling of the kettle he didn't hear light footsteps padding up the stairs and across the kitchen floor. Which is why he almost had a heart attack when he turned around to find Vince standing in his personal space looking... slightly sheepish and a little shy?

They stood there for a moment, just looking at each other, with only the boiling kettle making a sound. Howard didn't know what was happening, all he knew was that he couldn't look away from Vince's wide sapphire eyes, even if he had wanted to. The smaller man definitely looked a little nervous, he was slightly paler than normal and his hands were ever so slightly shaking.

Vince stood up on his tip toes slightly and leaned forward, very pointedly dragging his wide eyes from Howard's small ones, to his slightly parted lips. Almost subconsciously Howard did the same, looking from Vince's eyes to his lips, which were slightly pouted and shiny and oh so tempting and... coming closer towards him? Vince had leaned forward more, and their deep breathing was mixing together in the thin gap between their faces. Howard had time only to register how warm and sweet Vince's breath on his face was before Vince, plucking courage from somewhere, closed the gap.

Howard gasped slightly as soft moist lips brushed against his own and closed his eyes. Vince increased the pressure slightly and ran his fingers lightly up Howard's arm before tangling them in his soft brown locks. Howard brushed his fingers gently across Vince's cheek, while lacing one hand around his waist, pulling him tighter to his body. Vince made a soft moaning sound, giving Howard the confidence to lick slightly at his lower lip. Vince complied eagerly, opening his mouth and sliding his tongue together with Howard's deliciously. It was Howard's turn to moan as Vince pushed him back into the kitchen cabinet, both hands in his hair, and nibbled his bottom lip slightly. Howard had no idea how long they stayed like that, just them, kissing, all contented sighs, and soft lips, and warm tongues fighting lazily for dominance. It could have been twenty minutes or twenty years. Finally, Vince drew away and rested his forehead against Howard's, panting and staring deep into his eyes.

"I really missed you."

**I did warn you. Now review or I'll... I'll... I'll write Boosh Het! You wouldn't what that now, would you?**


	4. Plant Tonic

**Howince, as usual. You know you love it. And if you don't, is this really the site for you? **

**Didn't think so.**

**Summary: Howard and Vince reflect on a eventful day, and before you know it, a whole lotta other stuff has come up.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except the ideas in my mind tank. **

Plant Tonic.

"So, what was it like?"

It was night time and everything was still. There were no sounds of traffic or animals or drunken kids intruding into the perfect, peaceful silence. Howard and Vince were collapsed on their respective beds, too exhausted to even change their clothes. It had been an eventful day. The swirling contours of the ceiling captivated both of their interests as their minds drifted to jazzy and electronic places. All was tranquil.

"Hm?"

"What was it like?"

Vince's voice penetrated the quiet, yet with it's smooth tone, complemented rather than clashed with the rooms silence.

"What was what like, Vince?" Howard asked tiredly.

"Being inside me?"

Howard made a flustered, spluttering noise and tried not convey the fact that he had instantly thought of the double entendre instead of the rather more obvious fact that he had, a matter of hours a go, been shrunk down to a molecular level and injected into Vince's blood stream.

Vince laughed.

"Argh, sorry. That sounded proper dodgy, didn't it? I meant, y'know..."

Vince blushed furiously and told his brain to shut up as it threatened to go down _that_ path, the path that Vince had erected large and colourful No Entry signs over and asked Kevin the ferocious penguin to guard, in return for a Twix, some simple fashion tips and a copy of _Perky Penguins _(Vince dreaded to think.) But somehow, his thoughts were still sneaking past and heading towards Howard, heading towards Howard in a very wrong way... He was going to have to have a word with Kevin.

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

Howard gave a nervous laugh and mentally told himself to at least _try_ to get through the rest of the conversation without reaching a level of embarrassment that would make him want to live in a hole in Alaska for the next five years. Minimum. But what chance was there of that when everything Vince said sent his mind into overdrive searching for hidden meanings, innuendo, some sign that he felt the same as Howard? He found all these too, but it was _Vince. _What was flirting and what was just him?

"It was... well it was an interesting experience to say the least." said Howard, who thanked his brain for remembering to answer.

"What happened? What were all my cells and stuff like?"

"Well, your red blood cells were simpletons..."

"Ha! Genius, they're the ones with all the haemoglobin, right?"

"Yeah... wait, what?"

"That's right. I know some stuff."

Howard propped himself up onto his elbows and looked across the room at Vince who looked back smugly. Although he couldn't help feeling a _little _hurt by Howard's surprise. He knew as well as everyone else that he wasn't the most... substantial of people, but that didn't mean he was entirely stupid. He had been to school and everything. He even remembered bits of it.

Howard opened his mouth to retaliate, but thought better of it and lay back down. Where did Vince learn about haemoglobin? And why? He decided to file it under _Things for another time_, and continued.

"Your white blood cells were pretty scary."

"Yeah?" asked Vince intrigued.

"Yeah. They were going to destroy me, but I won them over with my superior charm and intellect." Howard decided Vince didn't need to know that his superior charm and intellect was used in crimp form. It all sounded somehow much more impressive with that left out. Not that he wanted to impress Vince or anything...

"Christ, you didn't tell the pencil case story did you?" laughed Vince.

"No, but that is a powerful anecdote and don't you ever forget it Sir!"

"Whatever. Go on."

"Well I just told them who I was and it was fine."

"Wow." Vince thought out loud. Even his cells knew Howard. They were really that close? The thought made him feel warm and fuzzy inside, like hot chocolate and marshmallows. Him and Howard, so close that... This was ridiculous, Vince decided. He wanted his Twix back.

"What?" Howard asked of Vine's quiet exclamation.

"It's just..." Vince struggled to put his thought's into words. "I know you so well that even my inner... _stuff _recognises you."

There was an awkward silence in which Howard thought of a hundred unashamedly poncey things to say.

_It's because no-one knows you like I do, Vince._

_..._

_It's because we're just that close._

_..._

_I bet there aren't many couples who can boast that._

_..._

_It's obviously because I'm so in love with you._

But of course he didn't voice any of these, as true as they were. He just let the silence drag on and listened to the sound of Vince waiting nervously for him to say something. Drag on, until it could be definitely certified as awkward. He felt awful for doing it, but didn't trust himself to speak – God knows what might come out. He might, for example.

There was a tangible change in the air as Vince realised Howard wasn't going to answer. Vince thought he had been quite brave saying something that could of easily opened into the deep and meaningful conversation he was desperate to have with Howard. Granted his perception of deep was rather shallower than most peoples, but Howard didn't need to simply decide not to answer. Unless he could see where it could lead and didn't want to go there. That seemed the most obvious explanation, thought Vince. He doesn't want to risk me saying anything about how I feel about- _Damn it Kevin!_

Vince cleared his throat and glossed over the silence.

"So, then what happened?"

"Well, then I met your brain cell."

Howard paused and waited to see if Vince would notice the lack of plural. There was silence. Apparently, he was familiar with haemoglobin but not with the fact that people were generally meant to have brain _cells, _in the plural. Howard inwardly shook his head. Vince really was confusing.

"Yeah and..." prompted Vince.

"Well, he was... interesting. Ridiculous outfit, though." Howard remembered the mirror ball suit in all it's glory, the original that is, the one Vince had concocted while Howard was trying to find the new sound. He remembered how tight it had been, so perfectly sculpted to fit Vince's... Howard told himself to not go there and distracted himself by idly pondering one of lifes big questions: What came first, the brain cell's mirror ball suit, or Vince's mirror ball suit? This, predictably, was not a very effective distraction. It only led to Howard thinking of more of Vince's outfits. This, he was disgusted by, as Howard Moon did not waste his considerable pondering prowess on contemplating _fashion_, no Sir! Even if said fashion was Vince in sinfully tight jeans, or a top slashed open to the waist...

"Oi! My brain cell has genius fashion sense, and I know that because _I_ have genius fashion sense."

"Surely you have _genius_ fashion sense, because your brain cell has _genius _fashion sense" Howard snapped, scornfully, and immediately regretted it.

He hated snapping at Vince, especially irrationally like this. It was just that sometimes anger was the only emotion strong enough to overpower the roaring lust that coursed through Howard's veins at the slightest encouragement. What had it been this time? Ah. The indignation in Vince's voice. It was sexy as hell.

"Just because you wouldn't know fashion if it flashed it's tits at you. Although you'd certainly notice that, seeing as it's such a _rare _occurrence." Vince bitched venomously.

He didn't know why Howard was suddenly pissed at him, just for being a bit thick. He couldn't exactly help it. So he hit back at him with the standard insults on Howard's fashion sense and non-existent sex life. It was a knee-jerk reaction.

"Actually, I did learn something interesting from your _singular_ brain cell." began Howard angrily. He wasn't going to mention this, but Vince was really winding him up.

"I was trying to protect him from the rogue jazz cell and I tried to hide him in this cupboard..."

"There's a cupboard in my brain?" Vince laughed.

Howard ignored him.

"...and he said something. He said "I do swing both ways." And as we established with the fashion comments, if your brain cell swings both ways, so do you!"

The silence in the room was deafening. Howard immediately wanted to take the words back. Well, not the words exactly, he had wanted to know the particulars of Vince's sexuality since forever, and some of the people he brought home could of easily have been androgynous guys, but the way it had said it... It had sounded harsh and accusatory to his own ears, so God knows how it must of sounded to Vince, whom it was bound to be a sensitive subject for. He had _accused_ Vince of being bi. He had said it mockingly and cruelly. And he could never take that back.

He heard Vince take a deep breath in the silence.

Vince _had_ wanted to tell Howard about his whole swinging both ways thing, but something had always held him back. He, himself certainly didn't have a problem with it, in his opinion being bi just meant he got more choice on who to shag. And who wouldn't want that? Vince didn't know if it was because he was scared that if he told Howard he was bi, his less-than-innocent feelings for his best mate might come out along with it, and God knows what shit he'd be in then, or if it was because Howard, old fashioned, set in his ways, traditional Howard, just might be the type of person who would have a problem with that kind of thing? Vince had repressed this thought (he even tried to give it to Kevin, but he said he had enough on his plate without having to look after a rampant thought) telling himself that Howard wouldn't be so judgmental, he was far to _nice_ for that, even if he did call Vince a ponce when he dressed particularly flamboyantly and always looked distinctly awkward whenever he saw gay couples necking during their gigs. But apparently he had been right all along. Howard had a problem with Vince's sexuality, and the thought made Vince's heart hurt.

"I knew it would bother you. That's why I never told you before."

Howard's heart dropped. He was furious with himself and desperately resisting the urge to give himself a Chinese burn. He told himself sternly that mild self harm would not improve the situation, and focused on wanted to tell Vince how wrong he was, how he hadn't meant it like that, how... How he wasn't a hypocrite. But no sound left his lips and Vince kept talking.

"I really wanted to believe that it wouldn't matter to you, _my best friend._"

The scorn in Vince's voice as he described Howard as his best friend caused the latter physical pain, but Vince was to angry to care and carried on.

"But I knew you'd be too... uptight and..." Vince tried desperately to come up with the words to get his point across. _He _knew what he meant but he had never been particularly good with words and was struggling.

"It's like when the tribal-sailor look became cool and not just something that only really crap people wore and all the people who like monochrome, which never goes out of fashion, thought it was disgusting and ridiculous and should still be a fashion crime and should always be a fashion crime and no amount of Gucci designs could persuade them otherwise." Vince said emotionally (and slightly proud of what he felt was an excellent simile.)

"I... Vince... _What?_" Howard spluttered, trying to work out if he was a sailor, a monochrome person or possibly Gucci in that simile. Needless to say he failed.

"Argh, I know what I mean."

"Well that's something I suppose."

Vince sighed.

"It's not like it's even a big deal. _I _don't care. No-one I've ever slept with has cared, and that's a pretty substantial list. Somehow, I always had a problem telling you. The sad thing is that I was right to."

"No." insisted Howard, glad he had finally had the balls to say something and at the same time wishing it had been slightly more substantial than one word.

"What?" asked Vince resignedly, just wanting this conversation to be over so that they could start pretending it had never happened.

"It wasn't a mistake telling me. I don't care, Vince I _really_ don't. It just came out wrong. I..."

Now Howard too was struggling with coherency, trying to get Vince to see how much, how much Howard... It was to hard to put into words, he decided it needed an action. And he was, after all, a man of action. In a fit of bravery Howard got up and went to sit on Vince's bed who was sitting up, with his arms around his knees.

"I had kinda guessed anyway." _And hoped. _"And if I judged you, well that would make me a massive hypocrite."

Vince's head snapped up. His startling blue eyes met Howard's for a long moment as Vince begged everyone and everything that he knew the correct definition of hypocrite, or this could be _very_ embarrassing.

"I..." began Vince. "I mean, _you_? Really?"

Howard smiled ruefully and nodded, thankful Vince knew what hypocrite meant and understood it's implications in what he had just said. Vince moved so that he was sitting next to Howard, legs dangling off the bed.

"So, who d'you fancy? It better not be Naboo, he'd flip." asked Vince cheekily, his heart already feeling twice its normal size because Howard _didn't _judge him _and _because Howard fancying Vince had just become a lot more likely.

Howard laughed.

"Or... Oh God, tell me it's not Lester Corncrake! I would have to disown you."

Howard laughed again and assured Vince that his feelings for Lester were purely platonic.

Then he explained what platonic meant.

"Are your feelings for me purely plant tonic?" asked Vince bravely in his sexiest voice and looked up at Howard from under his long lashes, biting his lip. Someone who didn't know him like Howard did could easily of assumed he was just teasing, but there was a definite sense of urgency and fear behind his words that made his heart pound and his thoughts spark with hope.

He was joking surely.

Teasing him.

Surely he didn't _want _Howard to...

No. That would be insane. This was _Vince. _Vince who could have anyone he wanted in the whole wide world. Vince the most impossibly beautiful creature to have ever lived. Why would he want Howard?

And yet.

There was something about the way Vince was looking at him. Something about how close his face was. Something in his eyes.

Howard wondered whether he loved Vince enough to take a risk that could either result in him being the happiest he had ever been in his life, or ridiculed for the rest of the millennium.

The answer was simple.

Of course he did.

Howard leaned forward and captured Vince's lips in a soft kiss. He could feel Vince's smile against his mouth, and prayed he wouldn't be mocked as he pulled away.

Vince's eyes were bright and he was grinning as he stared back at Howard. The latter broke the silence.

"Did that answer your question?"

"Hmm, I don't know, you might have to repeat yourself." replied Vince cheekily before springing at Howard and pushing him down onto his bed.

Vince kissed Howard and ran his tongue along his bottom lip. Howard groaned in appreciation and opened his mouth wide, allowing Vince to explore with his tongue. Howard had no idea what he was doing, but felt that even if he was the most experienced kisser in the world he would have struggled to make a sentence out of the fragments of thought that were swirling around in his brain.

Mainly things like _Vince_ and _What do I do with my tongue_ and _Vince_ and _Where should my hands be_ and _Vince_ and _Vince_ and_ Vince..._

Howard angrily told his brain to shut up, inwardly of course, and concentrate just on feeling. How Vince's mouth felt against his own, the smaller mans body on top of him, the throbbing of his half hard cock, which became fully erect as Vince turned his attention to Howard's neck and jaw. Howard moaned as Vince bit the soft flesh by his collarbone and ran his had slowly down his torso to his belt buckle.

Vince fumbled hopelessly with Howard's trousers, grunting in frustration as he failed to undo them. It was all very well Vince being frustrated, thought Howard, _he_ was the one with an erection so fierce he thought it may well _rip through _his trousers if Vince didn't hurry up.

Vince despaired of Howard's belt and began the easier task of unbuttoning Howard's shirt. Howard spared a brief thought for how awful it must be for Vince, having to spend so much time on the type of clothes he knew made the dark haired man feel physically ill, but then that was all forced from his head as Vince succeeded in removing his shirt and layed a trail of blazing kisses from his neck to his naval.

"Wait there." Vince said sliding off Howard and making his way to the bathroom.

Howard took in several deep breathes and tried to regain some rational thoughts. This, it turned out, was not such a good idea, as now he was managing to create coherent sentences (in his own mind at least) he was absolutely _terrified._

_He had no idea what he was doing!_

Of course he wanted this. Of course. But the embarrassment was going to be huge, even for Howard. He found himself wishing he was drunk, lowered inhibitions and diminished pride sounded great right now. What was Vince doing? Was he vaulting out the bathroom window? No, that didn't seem likely, surely not even Vince would be that mean. Was he undressing? The very thought sent shivers down his spine (shivers that quickly made it to his groin.) But why wouldn't he get undressed here? Howard recalled what Vince was wearing. He was still in the bondage trousers from his short lived punk career. Well that would explain it, he remembered Vince telling him long ago that it was scientifically impossible to look sexy while removing skinny jeans. Howard had no experience in this field at all (the field of skinny jeans _or _the field of removing clothes sexily for that matter) but could see how having to wriggle out of something that tight might not be the most dignified thing in the world. Howard went back to staring at the ceiling and tried to think about nothing, after all even he knew it wouldn't be very good etiquette to come before Vince had even re-entered the room.

_Deep breaths Howard, deep breaths._

In the safety of the bathroom, Vince was in a full blown panic. He was about to shag Howard. _He was about to shag Howard bloody Moon! _Kevin made a halfhearted attempt to stop Vince, looking up from his magazine and realising what was going on. Vince told Kevin to sod off, it was way to late for that and Kevin went home. Well that's something, thought Vince. Taking a deep breath Vince looked into the mirror and decided it was time for some deep (and hopefully quick, he didn't want to give Howard time to totally freak out) thinking. He looked into his own big blue eyes and asked all the important questions.

Did he want this?

_Yes._

Would he still want this tomorrow morning?

_Yes_

Would he ever regret it?

_No. _

Vince grinned at himself and wriggled out of his bondage trousers and t-shirt, dumping them on the bath mat. This was going to be _wonderful. _

Howard could hear Vince padding back to their room and had a moment where he must have looked like he was having a seizure, as he tried to assume a sexy position on the bed and panicked. He finally settled for sitting with his back against the wall and his hands behind his head, watching the door. Vince opened it slowly, grinning shyly at Howard who grinned back, and walked in wearing only his boxers. Howard's breath hitched in his throat as he took in the site in front of him. Again he was flooded with doubt. _Surely, _he _couldn't want _me?

But Vince did. He crossed the room quickly and straddled Howard's thighs, leaning over him. He held his gaze for a long, electrically charged moment before kissing him hard, ghosting his fingers down his torso. Howard shivered in the most pleasurable way and found the confidence to bite and suck at Vince's neck. Vince groaned deeply and Howard's erection once again began demanding attention.

Vince pulled away and held a bottle up in front of Howard, something he was very glad he had remembered to grab from the bathroom.

"Ready?"

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Howard woke up late. He could tell it was later than he usually cared to stay in bed because of the amount of light that filtered through his still closed lids, not that it bothered him. He would happily lie here forever, with Vince breathing peacefully next to him, his warm body pressed against his own. He considered waking up like this every morning, and doing _that_ every night,and was almost scared by the overwhelming sense of happiness that accompanied it. Almost. He wasn't used to happiness, it was a foreign concept. Until this point Howard had _endured _most of his life, except maybe those sweet moments with Vince, when his heart would flutter and everything would be okay...

Was it really possible to feel like that all the time? Howard really, really hoped so. He noticed with mild surprise that he was stroking Vince's soft onyx hair, pushing it lightly away from his perfect pale features. There was something magical about running his fingers through the smaller mans precious locks, something ridiculously romantic and intimate. He thought about Vince's reaction when anyone else threatened to go near his hair. Maybe that was it. Howard, for once in his life, wasn't just anyone. For once he was special. An exception. Howard smiled, and traced a finger down Vince's cheekbone.

Vince stirred slightly beneath Howard's touch and made a small noise in the back of his throat. His eyelids fluttered but stayed shut as placed his hand on Howard's and interlaced their fingers. Howard leaned forward and brushed a kiss against Vince's forehead, savoring the sent of his strawberry shampoo.

"Morning." Vince mumbled softly.

"Morning." Howard breathed into Vince's hair.

Vince opened his eyes and looked up at Howard, and smiled.

"Not so plant tonic, then."

**Lord, that was a long one. Now, I don't mean to brag, but I'm pretty damn proud of that XD Feel free to review and tell me I shouldn't be. Or to agree with me too, of course. **

**I'm gonna be quiet now. **

**Loves xxx**


	5. He's Left Me

This may be my last ficlet for a while. I know :( But I have two other stories I want to give my full attention to, and I have written you five... If inspiration strikes I may not be able to help myself but don't get your hopes up. I'm focusing on _Her With The Camera_ and _Of Haunting Songs And Bad Decisions. _Sorry!

Summary: No, I'm afraid you don't get one.

Disclaimer: *Insert amusing disclaimer here, I'm too tired to think of one*

Dedication: Everyone who's reviewed so far, especially if I didn't reply to your review. I'm sorry! What can I say, I'm unreliable :(

He's left me.

I can't believe he's left me. He just went and left, without even saying goodbye. I can feel tears swimming in my big blue eyes, and I'm glad there's nobody here to see me cry. Howard always seemed to love my eyes, I always thought they fixated him. Out of everything about me, it wasn't my body or my hair, it was my wide sapphire orbs that I was most proud of, because I thought they were what he loved. I thought he thought I was beautiful.

He was never very good at expressing his feelings. I didn't mind. It was part of who he was, and I was in love with that person. I still am. But I knew. I knew that he loved me, exactly like I loved him. Or I thought I did.

I pour myself another drink and sigh, lost in my memories. I can't help but feel that I've done something wrong. That it's my fault he's left me. If I had been better, less clingy, more... just better. If I'd have been better maybe he'd still be here. Maybe I wouldn't sitting alone in the dark.

Suddenly I'm angry. I yell out in frustration and grief and throw my glass against the nearest wall. I'm not mad at Howard, I love him far too much for that. No, I'm angry at the one who stole him from me. The bitch that snatched him from our domestic bliss. We were happy! We were going to be world famous stars, traveling the world, performing at all the biggest events, appearing in Cheekbone and NME every other week. We were going to be _the _celebrity couple. But that little bitch ruined any chance of that, trampled all over my dreams in his high heeled silver boots.

He even looks a little like me. That's the real kicker. He's an _improved_ version. The thought makes my stomach churn and for a minute I feel like I'm going to throw up. He's got everything I have _and _everything I want. How is that fair? He gets a happy ending with Howard, brave, strong, wonderful Howard, and I'm left here, isolated and so heartrendingly alone.

I've stopped crying now. I have no tears left to cry. I've heard about people who love someone so much that even if they've left them, they still want them to be happy. It worries me, because I don't want him to be happy with anyone except me. I want him to miss me, to hate every moment with his knew love. Does that mean I don't love him properly? Am I wrong? I don't think I can be, because if there's only one thing I know, in the entire universe, it's that I love Howard Moon.

I love Howard Moon.

Old Gregg sighed and poured himself another Baileys.

**Ohhh, oh oh oh I did a twisty, oh oh oh a tiny twisty, twist him up, twist him down, twist him all around town, look there's a review button, give it a press, look there's a review button, tell me what you thought XD**


	6. Pales In Comparison

**I'm back! Did I miss anything? Did you sky+ it? This is for those cheeky otters known as Chalcedony Rivers, panictowel, x Thursday Next x, Stronger Than A Moose, Beebee, electrolux, weekendgothgirl, iamwinterrowan, Boosh Rocks, Beebs, .xX, BooshBooger, kbchick and Mrs Old Gregg for reviewing anything so far. I do love our little Boosh family. Also Chalcy requested a zoo fic, and who am I to deny her? Also I think my spellchecker has just commit suicide, all of your pen names have confused it greatly XD**

**But mostly this is for the birthday girl, Shuna, the cheekiest otter of them all, who asked for a story for her birthday (and was sure to specify that it was a story _alongside _her "proper" present. I told you she was cheeky.)**

**Disclaimer: Owned by the ridiculously sexy Noelio and Juju.**

Pales in Comparison.

It was really time he got over Mrs Gideon, Howard Moon decided as he sat thoughtfully down onto the old sofa in the faithful zoo keepers hut. He had just been turned down by Mrs Gideon for what felt like the millionth time and felt... well he didn't feel that bad actually. He was nonplussed if anything. It wasn't doing him any good, being stuck in this rut, repeatedly asking out the creamy faced intellectual and always getting the same rejection. He wasn't even sure why he did it anymore, if he was honest it sort of felt like he was doing it out of obligation. Like, it was a well known fact that he was in love with her, he had to be seen as doing something about it. But this, this must surely be a sign, this feeling of... nonplussed-ness. A sign it was time to leave fair Gideon in the past and move on to exciting new pastures...

Now he had started, he may as well go all the way. Get completely over her. Howard leaned back into a more relaxed position and set himself up for a good half-hours thinking. Now, how to begin... Well her beauty had always inspired some of his finest cream poetry, he could start with the shallow side of things. Skin. Her skin wasn't really _that _creamy. Cream was that gorgeous milky white, Mrs Gideon was slightly tanned really. If you wanted properly _creamy _skin, then you really have to look to Vince. Now that's real cream coloured skin. You could write many a sonnet on skin like that...

But he was getting side tracked. Stupid Vince and his stupid perfect skin. Mrs Gideon, Mrs Gideon... her eyes. Her eyes were... well actually what colour were they? He honestly didn't know. They were extremely average. Nothing that would stand out. Some people, you only had to look at them and their eyes would hold you captive, hypnotise you, make you feel like you were drowning in huge deep pools of electric blue, endlessly falling into the sapphire coloured orbs... Gideon's eyes had nothing on Vince's. Vince's eyes were unreal, how big and blue they were...

But he was getting side tracked, again. Stupid Vince and his stupid beautiful eyes. Well, if Vince was on his mind then he may as well turn his focus to hair. Vince's hair was amazing, so soft and shiny and perfect and the way his fringe fell over his eyes and he would shake his head a little to move it and the way he was always ruffling it up adorably and... But this wasn't meant to be about Vince, was it? Howard closed his eyes and frowned, slightly concerned by the fact that even in his own mind, that hadn't sounded nearly as rhetorical as it was meant to. This wasn't anything to do with Vince, this was about Mrs Gideon. _Getting over_ Mrs Gideon, and her boring brown hair.

Her smile. Had she ever actually smiled in his presence? Had she ever smiled full stop? He couldn't imagine it being particularly spectacular if she did, she had rather thin lips. Boring smile. Boring women. Not like Vince's smile, which lit up his whole until it almost hurt to look at him, even though the very idea of _not _looking at him was ridiculous. His smile was dazzling, so full of energy and exuberance and so heart-wrenchingly gorgeous...

Howard got up to make a cup of tea. He was slightly concerned that his focus kept drifting so far away from the subject at hand and hovering around Vince instead, like a phantom... wasp. But then Vince always did smell of strawberries, so really it was no wonder his wasps thoughts seemed to like him so much. Pouring his tea on auto-pilot, Howard decided he may as well use this weird Vince stuff to his advantage. If all he had to do was compare Gideon to Vince, then it should all be really easy, because it was pretty stupid to be in love with someone who wasn't even nearly as good as your best mate, wasn't it? He'd already established that Mrs Gideon was nothing if not average looking, and Vince was... well Vince was pretty fucking beautiful if you really thought about it.

Howard sat back down with his tea, and decided to explore the realms of personality. He was an intellectual, Gideon was an intellectual. But, actually, what proof did he have of her intelligence? The only conversations he'd ever had with her had been generally under a minute long and consisted mainly of him making a tit out of himself. This revelation surprised him. He had spent so long day-dreaming about her, the intellectual conversations they would have, the poetry they would share, the deep meaningful thoughts on the nature of existence they would discuss... Howard knew nothing about the women. Nothing at all. She might not like poetry. She might not even be very clever. What had he based this on? As far back as he could remember she'd been his symbol of intellect, but why? Well... she wore glasses? Howard almost laughed out loud. This was going really well. The whole reason for his infatuation might not even be true. She might be really thick.

Howard wasn't sure being in love with an intellectual was such a good idea anyway. His deep meaningful thoughts could often be rather dark and he wasn't sure if having someone agree with them was a great idea. If anything he needed someone who would balance them out. Someone full of sunshine and rainbows, someone who thought comparing the virtues of Nicky Clark to Vidal Sasoon was deep. Someone who, when Howard was gripped by the swooping feeling of lowly insignificance and unfulfillment and a kind of indescribable fear of the future, someone who when Howard tried to articulate these feelings to, would grin, slightly puzzled, an tell him that every would work out right and say it with such confidence and naïve sincerity that he would believe them. Someone so carefree that they made even Howard think maybe, just maybe it would all be alright. So he was back to thinking of Vince then.

Mrs Gideon wasn't a very nice person either, was she really? She repeatedly forgot his name, treated him rudely... There was no excuse for that even if he was a little full-on. Vince would never do that, he was far too content with existence to feel the need to be unprovokedly nasty to anyone. She didn't seem to have much of a sense of humor either. He couldn't recall ever seeing her laughing and that was a serious problem because he had a pretty weird sense of humor as it was and the only other person who ever seemed to really get what he was on about was, well it was Vince wasn't it? Who else? Mrs Gideon would never be persuaded to chuck satsumas anywhere. She wouldn't understand the concept of crimping. He couldn't understand what he had ever seen in her.

So, to conclude. Vince was basically stunning in every way. He had giant blue eyes and perfect pale skin and a charming smile and soft shiny hair and was sweet and kind and funny and wonderfully wonderfully weird... But this wasn't meant to be about Vince. This was meant to be him getting over Mrs Gideon, listing all her bad qualities until he no longer wrote her sonnets, or gazed at her from windows... But then, in a way, that was sort of what he was doing, thinking about Vince. Showing how little she could compare to him. Showing that Mrs Gideon had absolutely nothing on Vince.

At that very moment Vince himself, bounced into their zookeepers hut, grinning.

"Alright Howard?"

Howard was staring at Vince with the expression of a man who's just had something very obvious dawn on them.

"What? Howard? Why are you staring at me like a spaced out raccoon?"

Howard stood up without really knowing why and blurted out:

"I'm over Gideon."

"Yeah? How did that 'appen?" asked Vince looking mildly impressed.

Howard walked forward without really knowing why he did that either.

"She just... she paled in comparison."

"Comparison to who?" said Vince tilting his head and staring up at Howard.

"You."

Vince's eyes widened slightly and he grinned widely, glancing at the floor and then back up at Howard, cheeks stained with a slight blush. And Howard thought that even if Gideon was intelligent and kind and beautiful, she would still pale in comparison to Vince.

**Pfft. I don't know. It just wouldn't go right. I don't know why... something's just a bit off with it. Pfft.**

**Review?**


	7. One Month In

**Remember when I said this collection would be taking a back seat while I worked on my other stories? Hmm well look how that turned out. I am trying, but I've got two counts of writers block to deal with, so hopefully I can dispel some with this. I'm pretty pleased with it TBH. Oh and also, *ahem massive plug alert* I have recently written a Nathan Barley story called Quitting and and IT Crowd story called Gothic Electronic, so do check those out if you watch either of the shows...**

**Disclaimer: Only in my dreams.**

**Warnings: Naughty words.**

One Month In

It hit him sometimes. It's not like he ever really _forgot_, how could he, but sometimes the enormity, the glorious magnificent enormity of it all would wash over him and he would find it hard to not laugh out loud and stop the ecstasy rolling off of him in big powerful waves. He wondered if he would ever get to used to it. He hoped not.

It was going... well it was going really really well. Like, _really really_ well. A broad grin graced his face once again, as now familiar but no less thrilling happiness flooded his senses. He wasn't really used to happiness. He wasn't saying he had been miserable before, because _he'd_ still been there, hadn't he? Not quite as _here_ as he was now of course, but there nonetheless. But now, his life was... his life was... Words failed him. _Him _a master of language, conqueror of the written word, stupefied by just how brilliant it all was. How brilliant _he_ was.

There had been a time, a terrible dark time, where it had looked like it wouldn't end well. Where it wouldn't even end_ tolerably. He_ could visualise his life as a graph, time on the x axis, happiness on the y (clearly organised and labeled thoughs are the key to success.) The graph would start near the bottom, flat and brown, trundling along quietly. Then, as he reached secondary school, _bam, _the line would spike up, turn electric blue and everything would get better, get _amazing. _There would be adventures and crimps and a pair of ridiculously large blue eyes and yes the line might wobble up and down a bit (Crack Foxes and Hitchers, winning crimp offs and cheating death) but it was consistently, wonderfully high. Then it would spike again, spike high because there would be a kiss on the roof and the line would turn technicolour. That would be when, however, the line would take a downward turn, some of the colour would dissipate. They would hit the bouncy castle and it would all get a bit weird. The line would go down, steadily and just steep enough to notice, getting greyer all the time until he was mental enough to think maybe it would be better if he left. So he did. He went off with Jurgen. Forget flat-lining, the line would nose-dive, break through the x axis and delve deep off the graph paper and into the realms of deepest despair. To this day, he had no idea what had possessed him to take Jurgen up on his offer. Those two weeks had been the bleakest of his life, everyday a hideous struggle. A constant gnawing in the pit of his stomach that was part guilt part longing and part unrequited love.

Although it turned out unrequited was a bit of a presumption.

He remembered his return to the shop in vivid detail. He very much doubted he would ever forget.

_Howard watched in horror as Vince, Bollo and Naboo laughed at the windy blast fast commercial, laughed at _him_. His return couldn't have been going worse if he tried. First there was the fact that no-one seemed the least bit interested in the fact that he was back. Vince had barely looked up from the television. Had he even noticed that he had gone? Did he even care that he was back? Then there was that Adam berk, showing just how easy to replace he had been. Treacherous thoughts chased each other through Howard's brain, each uglier than the last. Did Vince like Adam? Did they get on? Did they crimp? Did they have satsuma fights? Had _they_ kissed? Howard looked at Vince, hoping to catch his eye, for some sign that he had been missed, some sign of affection. Vince however was staring at the TV with an intensity far disproportionate to the bland music videos on display there. He was fidgeting slightly, his hands shaking as they worried at his cuffs or tapped quiet, tense rhythms on the counter. As Howard watched he swallowed thickly and began to blink rapidly before jumping up so suddenly that Howard started._

"_I've, um, I've got a right headache coming on, I'm just gonna-" Vince waved vaguely at the stairs before bolting up them. Howard hesitated for a second and glanced at Naboo and Bollo, but they were far to engrossed in the new Robots In Disguise video to notice anything. Making his mind up Howard followed Vince up the stairs, to find him lent against a wall with his head in his hands, shaking with suppressed emotion._

"_...Vince?" asked Howard tentatively, suddenly slightly afraid. Vince looked up at Howard slowly, sniffing as he did so, and Howard wasn't sure if he was surprised to see tears spilling from his eyes or not. He was sure that he had to stop it though, right now, because there was something fundamentally wrong about Vince crying. "What's wrong?"_

"_What's wrong." said Vince in a hollow voice looking at Howard incredulously. "What's fucking wrong!" he shrieked again and incredulity turned to anger in a heart beat. Vince launched himself at Howard punching and slapping at any part of him he could reach. Luckily Vince was too emotional to much real damage but it was disconcerting nonetheless. _

"_Vince! What, ow, what are you, ow! Why-" Howard grabbed Vince's wrists tightly. "Why are you beating me up?" he asked as calmly as he could when his heart was beating _that_ hard, half from anger and half from something he was reasonably sure was lust. Vince did do anger rather magnificently. _

"_You twat!" Vince pulled his wrists from Howard's grip fiercely before prowling to the other side of the room. "You left, you just_ left_ me! With barely a word, definitely without a goodbye! I asked for you, you jazzy nonce, after I had collapsed on stage and Bollo took me home, I regained consciousness and asked for you. Naboo had to tell me you had left, as an afterthought! "Oh by the way, Howard's left you, he probably wont be back." Have you got any idea how... how dispensable that made me feel? We've been best mates for more than ten years and you, you just fucking left!" Vince was now practically hysterical, hands shaking and tears tracks glistening on his cheeks. _

"_I did tell you!" yelled Howard, as he tried not feel some satisfaction at the way Vince was talking about them like they were a couple. He really did try. "You didn't care! I came in to your dressing room, at your _electro circus _and _told you_ I was going off with Jurgen. You barely even noticed me!"_

"_Oh, I wonder why that could have been? Could it have possibly been because I had a gorilla helping me in to the tightest trousers known to man and couldn't even breathe, let alone think? Do you honestly thinks that counts as a good bye Howard? I had no oxygen going to my brain, I didn't know what was happening!"_

_There was of course some truth in this, but the argument was far too heated for Howard to ever admit it._

"_Well my absence can't have affected you that badly Vince, you certainly replaced me quickly enough!"_

"_That wasn't me! That was Naboo! I've barely even spoken to that Arron guy. I was too busy wondering my oldest and best mate, had not only left me without even saying goodbye, but hadn't even called me! Not even one fucking text Howard!"_

_Howard found he had no answer for that. "Vince..." he began much quieter, without any idea how he was going to finish the sentence. Vince was still shaking and still crying and Howard could feel his heart breaking._

"_I know why you did it." said Vince, also much quieter._

"_What?"_

"_I know why you were so eager to leave. You felt all awkward after your party, I could tell. You'd been avoiding me." Vince's hollow voice was back, and Howard thought he would have __preferred__ the shouting._

"_Well it was rather humiliating, what did you expect?"_

"_Oh cheers Howard."_

"_...what?"_

"_Just rub it in, why don't you. It was bad enough getting chucked by you for some jazzy girl who weren't even that pretty, without you reminding me how "humiliating" it all was. But then I guess anyone's a step up from me, ay 'oward." Vince said this with such resignation, that even though he said it to the floor, Howard still felt like he was drowning in something._

"_What? But... No! I meant it was humiliating for _me! _I came on to you on the roof and you tried to make me stop but I just blundered on anyway, saying all that stuff and you, _you, _told me that you weren't interested!"_

"Didn't say that exactly though did I? I said you _weren't interested. There's a difference."_

"_What? Vince, I don't get what you're saying."_

"_You weren't in love with me Howard. You were just in love with the idea of me, all excited about having a girlfriend or boyfriend or whatever. It weren't nothing to do with it being me who kissed you. If it had been Dennis, you would have said the same to him. If I had gone along with it...That jazzy girl just proves my point. You'd have left me for someone better who showed you some small bit of affection and I'd be cast aside like yesterdays Cheekbone."_

_Howard's brain was screaming _THERE IS NO-ONE BETTER _at a frighteningly loud volume, but Howard was having trouble putting his torrent of thoughts and feeling into words. He needed to explain, emphatically, and he needed to do it quickly._

"_Vince." That was a good start. In a fit of bravery Howard crossed the room and grabbed Vince hand tightly, but when that didn't seem to be enough to chase away the look of resigned heartbreak in Vince's eyes Howard pulled him into a bone crushing hug. "I only went of with that jazz girl to save face, Vince. Please understand that. You had just rejected me on the roof, and I didn't want to think about it, and I definitely didn't want to talk about it, and I thought you wouldn't bring it up if I got off with her. Then you had that electro girl..." Vince mumbled "saving face" into Howard's chest and Howard held him a little tighter. "And all that stuff about me falling in love with __anyone who gives me any affection... It's not true. It's _just you_ Vince, it's always been you. Everyone else, Mrs Gideon, were just me feebly trying to distract myself from you. Because I never thought that you'd, I mean your so perfect and I'm... well. But the point is there is no danger of me ever finding anyone better because there is no-one better than you, Vince, there never will be." Howard pulled Vince away from him slightly so he could see his face, and gently thumbed away his tears. "I'm so so sorry for leaving you like that." he whispered, fairly sure he was seconds from crying himself._

_Vince swallowed loudly and traced idle patterns on Howard's chest with light fingers, evidently deep in thought. "D'you really mean that 'oward?" he said looking up at the taller man. Howard had forgotten how much smaller Vince was than him. "'Cus if you say all this now, and then tomorrow some girl pops into the shop, with a nice smile and an interest in jazz and you... Well I don't think I could take that Howard, I really don't." _

_Howard risked brushing a kiss against Vince's temple as he whispered, "I promise. For once Howard Moon crosses that physical barrier, it'll be forever Sir!" Vince let out strangled laugh that sounded more like a sob and buried his head in Howard's chest again. They stayed like that for an immeasurable amount of time, not thinking, just listening to each other breathing. Then Vince stood on tiptoe and pressed a slightly salty but still indescribably delicious kiss to Howard's lips. _

"_Don't ever leave me again."_

"I wont little man."

He couldn't believe that had been a whole month ago. Since then things had been so much more normal with so much less drama than he had expected. After the initial conversation, Howard had been surprised at how easy everything had been. He had a new favourite hobby – sex with Vince turned out to bepositively_ mind-melting _and for the first week of their relationship they had barely left the bedroom. And what a fine week it had been. Naboo had not been impressed. They still did all the things they had always done, except now there was a new element, another dimension to it. Watching Colobus The Crab reruns was just the same, except Vince was draped over him like a flannel and there was kissing in the ad breaks. There was still bickering in the shop, except now it was a lot more like flirting. Although, as Vince had pointed out to him one evening when Howard had shared these thoughts with him, the bickering had always been flirting really. Vince still went out clubbing and stumbled home drunk, just less frequently and he got back earlier. Howard went all melty inside when Vince said half the reason he did it was because he loved how Howard looked after him when he was hungover. They were still mates, but they were so much more too.

Vince made a sleepy noise and his eyelids fluttered but remained closed. He lazily lifted a hand to ruffle his hair and kissed the bit of Howard's chest he was lying on.

"Morning." said Howard quietly.

Vince yawned comically wide and opened his eyes, looking up at Howard in a way that made it impossible to look away. Vince leant up and gave Howard a languorous kiss.

"Morning."

And it hit Howard all over again.

**What did we think? I kinda loosely based the fight of HP7 when Ron comes back and Hermione is angry... But that isn't what's important. What's important is that you review.**


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